


And We Watched You Unravel

by CamsthiSky



Series: Unravel [2]
Category: Batgirl (Comics), DCU, Forever Evil (Comics)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Light Angst, alternate POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 23:32:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12069207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CamsthiSky/pseuds/CamsthiSky
Summary: An alternate POV fic for I've Already Come Undone





	And We Watched You Unravel

**Author's Note:**

> fuyunoakegata asked: Alternate POV of the kitchen scene in I've Already Come Undone, maybe Alfred or Bruce was watching :)

When Bruce walks into the kitchen, he isn’t expecting to step into a puddle of water. His sock soaked, he stares at the floor a moment, confused. Alfred had _just_ mopped the floors yesterday, and he wouldn’t leave just one spot— _a puddle—_ to dry on its own like this.

“Alfred?” Bruce asks when the butler walks into the kitchen, a few towels in hand.

Alfred heaves a heavy sigh, his expression troubled as he bends down to set a towel down. Bruce backs up a few steps to give him room, and Alfred goes about cleaning the floor of water. “I apologize for the mess, Master Bruce,” Alfred says. “I’m afraid Master Richard tried to help me clean a previous spill and another bottle of water was knocked over.”

Bruce’s eyebrows scrunch up. “Where is Dick now?”

“I sent him to lie down.” Alfred gathers the soaked towels up, and he’s deliberately not looking at Bruce. It’s only as soon as Alfred is wringing the towels out over the sink that he speaks again, and his voice is a troubled as his expression. “I fear that Master Richard has been overworking himself once again.”

Bruce leans against the counter behind him, digesting that. “You mean he’s stressed out.”

“Perhaps,” Alfred concedes, but he doesn’t sound convinced. “Either way, I believe he needs a rest, so I would suggest leaving him be for the afternoon.”

Bruce nods and watches as Alfred wrings out the last towel and gathers them up, but his mind is a million miles away.

It was only last week that Dick had come back from Spyral to take Nightwing back permanently. There’s a spill that Dick tries to help clean and Alfred feels sorry enough for him to send him to bed even though it’s less than an hour to lunch? He could chalk it up Dick still trying to adapt back to a somewhat normal lifestyle, and there’s a part of Bruce that _wants_ to, to be rid of this problem by chalking it up to the stress of coming back home.

But there’s another part of Bruce that wonders if there’s something more to this. Dick has always been quick to adapt to any situation, and whether there’s something wrong with Dick or it’s just taking _this_ long for Dick to get back into the swing of things, it really doesn’t spell anything in Bruce’s mind.

He won’t confront it, though, Bruce thinks, absentmindedly heading towards his son’s bedroom. He walks up the stairs and down the hallway and peeks in through the open door. There’s soft light spilling in through the half open window. The lazy breeze coming in through the window is nice, and the room looks peaceful.

And yet, there’s a tension in the room that Bruce can feel from the doorway, and it’s obvious where it’s coming from.

Dick is too still where he’s lying on his bed, wrapped up in far too many blankets for such a nice day. Bruce quietly makes his way over to his son’s bedside and crouches down next to where Dick’s burrito’d himself, careful not to wake him. His eyebrows are scrunched up, and Bruce stays there for a few minutes, just staring at what _has_ to be stress on Dick’s face.

But—what’s there to be stressed about? Is it being back home? Does Dick not feel comfortable here with his family anymore? Is it because Dick is still angry at Bruce for asking him to infiltrate Spyral? Or is there something else weighing on Dick’s mind? Something invisible to Bruce?

Whatever it is, Dick’s expression leaves a bitter taste in Bruce’s mouth and all he can do is run his fingers through Dick’s hair, rubbing a thumb across his forehead in an attempt to smooth out his son’s scrunched up brow.

Amazingly, Dick’s face relaxed and Dick melts into his touch, sighing a little in his sleep. Bruce smiles sadly. He stays there for a few moments, just watching Dick sleep, and he makes a silent promise to himself that he’ll figure out what’s stressing Dick out as soon as he can.

For now, he hopes that whatever Dick’s dealing with, he comes forward with it sooner rather than later. Bruce doesn’t want to stay in the dark until it’s too late. But then again, “too late” is a curse that Bruce can’t seem to escape, no matter how hard he tries.


End file.
